#AmericanWriters
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red